


Red As Blood (The Amaryllis And The Rose Bleed)

by wolfie_slays



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Chronic Pain, Flowers, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Marriage, Parent Bucky Barnes, Parent Tony Stark, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 13:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18550627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfie_slays/pseuds/wolfie_slays
Summary: Flower marks. They describe your soulmate in their own special language, and they're imprinted onto your body, wherever your soulmate feels the most pain. Tony Stark has always been fascinated by the amaryllis on his shoulder. Bucky Barnes has always been proud of the rose on his chest. They both deal with chronic pain, are briefly idiotic, and then find each other.





	Red As Blood (The Amaryllis And The Rose Bleed)

“What does it mean?”

Tony was four years old, sitting at Jarvis’ kitchen table, eating his butler’s painstakingly prepared scones, pouting as Anna wrestled with his thick mop of dark hair, trying to style it in a way that was somewhat presentable. Tony’s fingers ghosted over the vibrant red of his amaryllis flower, poking out from the sleeve of his t-shirt. 

“Your flower?” Jarvis asked, and smiled softly when Tony nodded. “It represents your soulmate, the person who loves you more than anything else in the entire world.”

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you and Miss Anna loved me more than anything else in the entire world?”

Jarvis smiled again as Anna cooed, and ladled another spoonful of cream onto Tony’s scone. The boy wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to deserve an extra spoonful, but decided quickly that he wasn’t going to contest the decision. 

“Your soulmate has a different love for you. Me and Anna love you as if you were our son. Your soulmate will love you differently, like Anna and I love each other, or like your mother and father love each other.”

Tony nodded, satisfied with his answer, ands was silent for a whole thirty seconds, working on his scone with a single-minded determination that only a four-year-old could quite manage. Jarvis watched in silence as the boy mulled things over in his head. 

“Father’s isn’t like mine.” Tony said eventually, when he’d licked his spoon clean. “Neither is mamma’s, and they’re in different places. Why?”

“Soulmarks vary depending on the personality of your soulmate; different flowers represent different personality traits. The placement of the mark also varies, on where your soulmate feels the most pain.”

Tony latched on to the most important thing he’d heard, eyes already widening with concern. “My- my soulmate is in pain? Can we help?”

“Oh, Anthony.” Anna sighed, placing the comb down on the table and pressing a gentle kiss to Tony’s forehead. “You special, special boy. You will help your soulmate when the time is right for you to do so, do not worry yourself.”

Tony nodded, the absolute trust of a child, before looking back up at Jarvis. “What does my flower rep- repserent?”

“‘Represent’” Jarvis corrected smoothly, “the amaryllis represents determination and radiant beauty, I believe.”

“What does that mean?”

It was at this point that his mother would have hushed him, softly but absently, or his father would have snapped an impatient  _‘Enough with the goddamn questions, boy!’_ , but Jarvis, dear, dear Jarvis, held up a finger, and went to retrieve his book on soulmarks, a thick, leather-bound volume that he flipped through until he found the amaryllis. 

“Legend has it that the amaryllis began as a shy, timid nymph. Amaryllis fell deeply in love with Alteo, a shepherd with Hercules’ strength and Apollo’s beauty, but her affections were unrequited. Hoping that she could win him over by bestowing upon him the thing he desired most - a flower so unique it had never existed in the world before - Amaryllis sought advice from the oracle of Delphi. Following his instructions, Amaryllis dressed in maiden’s white and appeared at Alteo’s door for thirty nights, each time piercing her heart with a golden arrow. When at last Alteo opened his door, there before him was a striking crimson flower, sprung from the blood of Amaryllis’s heart. This tragic tale is therefore why the amaryllis flower is representative of determination and radiant beauty.”

Tony’s eyes were wide and bright, his excitement of new knowledge palpable, and he was still grinning, fingers twitching, when Anna ushered him to finish his tea. 

“Enough with your fairy tales,” she chuckled, “the young master needs his sleep.”

“But _Anna_ ,” Tony gasped, affronted, “I want to hear more, I want to hear about _your_ flowers, I want to know who my soulmate is, I want to invite them to play and see my robots!”

“Don’t argue with me, young man. You can have more stories tomorrow, and your soulmate will find you when the time is right.”

* * *

Bucky had never been ashamed of his soulmark, never afraid to wander around with no shirt and show it off, proudly proclaiming that yes, his rose stood for passion and a love of lifetimes, blooming a vibrant red against his tanned skin, the prefect offset to his dark, striking features and cocky smile. The girls swooned over him, exclaiming that his mark was so beautiful, batting their eyelashes at him, and he basked in their undying attention, stepping out with a different girl every night, but never once offering them more than a peck on the cheek. 

Someone down at the docks had asked him if he wasn’t worried about getting saddled with a dame with a broken ticker, but Bucky had simply offered a flashy, flirty grin, and said that if he had a dame with a broken heart he’d just damn well have to fix it, wouldn’t he? And the girls perched on the dock wall had giggled over what a charmer Bucky was, how he was just like the dashing men one saw in the cinema, and that had been the end of the matter.

That night, he’d sat with Steve, listening to his wheezing breath and wet gasps for air, laying a hand on his spindly chest to feel the irregular heartbeat beneath his fingers, and felt like crying for his best friend as he sat by his bedside feeling utterly helpless. 

“You got any idea yet?” Bucky had asked the next day, tapping at the side of his own head, nodding towards the flower on Steve’s temple.

Steve shook his head, thin fingers trailing over the red aster nestled in his hairline. It was never easy knowing your soulmate was hurting, but trust Steve to have someone who’s mind wasn’t quite right, broken in a way that couldn’t be fixed. Steve would never be accepted by society, scrappy and frail as he was, and neither would his soulmate. Bucky wanted to scream with how unfair it was

“You think it’s me?” Bucky asked, taking a drag of his cigarette, exhaling when Steve furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Your soulmate, I mean. Makes sense. We’re best friends, love of lifetimes, all that bullshit. You’ve got a bad heart.”

“Sorry to disappoint, Buck,” Steve chuckled, “but y’ain’t dainty, and you’ve never had much patience. Aster ain’t your flower.. You think you’re screwed in the head, pal?”

“Nah,” Bucky grinned, “just an idea. Loneliness makes a fella desperate, I suppose.”

“Think you’ll ever find yours?”

“I’d better, deserve a bit of passion in my life, little spitfire of a wife to come home to and keep me entertained after work.”

“Better than having _me_ to come home to, at any rate.”

“Don’t start that shit with me Stevie.” Bucky grunted, throwing his burnt out cigarette over the railings of the fire escape. “You’ll find yourself a nice, patient, dainty dame who loves you ‘s much as I do.”

“An’ you’ll be the best man at my wedding, and your passionate, fiery dame can be the maid of honour.” 

* * *

Pain. 

That’s all Tony knew.

Deep, stabbing, twisting, gnawing, blood-curdling, mind-numbing, spiking, screaming pain, worming its way into his chest and between his ribs, pulling and rearranging, a cold intrusion. Every breath felt like liquid fire, like breathing in petrol and lighting it up, and yet the hands wouldn’t _stop_ , no matter how much he screamed, how much he begged.

When he came to, eyes wrenching themselves open and air coming in thick, painful gasps, it was cold, damp, dirty, and the pain was still there, crushing his chest and clawing its way up his neck until he was sure he was going to vomit, but didn’t have the strength to do so. _This is where their soulmark will be,_ Tony thought distantly _, whoever they are._ He’d never felt pain like it, and he knew he never would. Not many people could say they’d undergone some form of chest surgery without any kind of anaesthetic. A Tony Stark exclusive. 

Hours later, after learning that there was an electronic device in his chest that he didn’t want to be there, that an unqualified doctor had performed open heart surgery on him in the middle of the desert with no proper medical supplies, that he’d been kidnapped and terrorists and bombs and waterboarding, Tony accepted the fact that he was going to die, having never found his soulmate.

Then of course, because nothing ever went the way Tony wanted it to, he didn’t die, he _lived_ , he escaped, ignoring what he left behind, and even if Yinsen’s bloodied face did haunt his nightmares, no one was going to know about it, because he was Tony fucking Stark; soldiering on with a flashy smile was what he did best. Every night without fail for the next three years he would jolt awake, crying out, clawing at his own chest, dry heaving as the sight of Yinsen’s dead eyes burned themselves into his brain, haunting him, the ghost of the man he left behind. The man who had died whilst Tony lived.

When the adrenaline of coming home had worn off, when he’d identified Obadiah and mourned for the man that should have been his father, did Tony realise he was in trouble. His chest was in pain, constant, crippling pain, the bulging kind of pain that came from having your ribs broken, forced back one by one and re-set incorrectly, chest hollowed out and brutally re-formed. The palladium from the new reactor core gave him shivers, made him shake and convulse until he couldn’t breathe, made him sweat and feel as though his skin was on fire, then when the palladium passed, along with the shivers and the burning, the chest pain continued, oppressive to the point of too much alcohol and a half-hearted suicide attempt.

Tony knew the pain was never going to stop.

* * *

Bucky didn’t even notice the pain. It had all blended into one by now, one constant hum that wasn’t quite bad enough to prevent him from performing as he needed to, but just bad enough to remind him that it was there. 

It used to be much worse.

He’d learned to deal with it.

The arm was designed to kill, to pull triggers and release grenade pins and squeeze the life out of innocent victims by the throat, so that the other agents didn’t have to hear them beg for their lives. Bucky didn’t care, not any more. He wasn’t allowed to care. 

Then suddenly HYDRA was collapsing, crumbling around him, agents and doctors and scientists and handlers fleeing and leaving him behind, free for the first time in decades, and _Bucky had no idea what the fuck he was supposed to do._ He needed orders, he needed a mission, he needed the soothing words of people telling him  _‘ty khorosho vypolnil, soldat‘, ‘you have performed well, soldier’_ as they shut him back in the freezer.

Bucky did what he’d been trained to do for longer missions; he found a non-descript apartment, stole food and money sparingly, no paper trail, old newspapers painstakingly taped over the windows, no more than a fleeting glimpse that civilians dismissed without a second thought. He stole a small bag of plums from a grocery store somewhere in Norway, suddenly gleefully intent on doing something his handlers would have punished him for, and vomited them back up as soon as he’d swallowed the first bite, stomach unused to rich food. The retching made his shoulder twinge, and he was struck all over again by the tugging pain, harder and harder to disassociate from as time went on.

Only days later saw Bucky curled up on the mattress of his tiny apartment, clutching at the skin of his shoulder as he rocked back and forth, feeling the tendons stretch and strain, sending paths of fire up his neck, down his back, phantom pain across his arm. He sobbed, unashamedly, letting tears run down his face until his eyelids swelled, biting down hard on the leather of his glove to stop him screaming aloud. 

 _Let it pass,_ came a voice in his head, unbidden images of fluffy blonde hair, frail hands clutching at his chest. _Don’t fight it, Stevie, just let it pass._

Bucky knew he’d be vomiting from the pain if there were any food in his stomach, so instead he dry heaved, convulsing on the thin mattress until he passed out from pain, from exhaustion. 

* * *

Tony dreamt of his soulmate. He was in his mid-forties, and those who had not found their soulmate by now had normally given up, found someone else like them, settled down together to be as happy as they could be. Tony insisted he _had_ given up, insisted that he did not believe in dumb fairy stories, but even he could not convince himself of this delusion when he caught himself stroking over the cutting red of his amaryllis whenever he needed comfort. 

Bucky did not dream of his soulmate. Bucky was glad that his soulmate was probably dead by now, hoped that she had found a nice man to settle down with, a house, maybe some children. She was passionate, a Venus or an Aphrodite, and she didn’t deserve to have a monster for a soulmate. Bucky ignored his mark completely, turned away from the small mirror in his apartment bathroom so he didn’t have to look at its taunting red. Bucky didn’t dream of his soulmate, but he hoped she was happy.

* * *

“ _Cap_? _Our_ Cap? As in, _Steve Rogers_?”

_‘Yes, sir. Along with a mister James Barnes, who looks to be in significant distress.’_

“What the fuck did I do to deserve this?” Tony lamented, then exhaled shakily, scrubbed his hands over his face, before standing and striding towards the door. “Let them in J, get Barnes to med. Not the one downstairs, take them to Bruce’s lab, last thing we need is him going ape-shit when some dumb intern starts waving needles in his face.”

_‘Of course, sir.’_

Tony was already in the lab when Steve came stumbling in, propping a barely-lucid Bucky Barnes up against him. They both looked awful, but Barnes looked like a _corpse_ , skin pale and waxy, muscle wasted away to leave a skinny, frail figure in its wake. He wasn’t aware of his surroundings, eyes glassy and unfocused, but he was whimpering, as if in pain, and Tony bit his lip in sympathy. 

“Get him on the bed, Cap.”

Steve nodded, not saying anything, and practically carried Barnes over to the well-disguised examination bed, laying him down as gently as possible. The man was _shaking_ , tremors wracking his body, and Tony turned to Steve with wide, questioning eyes. 

“I don’t know.” Steve said hoarsely, and Tony realised quickly that he’d been crying. “I just found him like this… he hasn’t eaten, I don’t know how long it’s been, and he’s in a lot of pain, I just can’t figure out what it is.”

“Right,” Tony breathed, “is he- is he stable?”

“I don’t think he could attack you if he tried, Tony. He can barely walk.”

Tony nodded, finding he had no urge to shoot Steve a sharp line, and placed a gentle hand on the other man’s shoulder.

“I’ll fix it, Steve, I’ll fix _him,_ ” Tony assured gently, “it’s what I do.”

“I know, Tony. Thank you.”

When Bucky eventually came round, shaking off the last vestiges of the pain medication that had knocked him out for several hours, Tony was sat by his bedside, fiddling with a hologram of his latest helmet upgrade. Steve was snoring softly, lying on a sofa which he’d moved to be in Bucky’s line of sight. Tony looked up from his work when Bucky let a noise escape from between his cracked lips, and grinned at seeing the other man awake. 

“Hey, Barnes. You doin’ okay?”

Bucky opened his mouth, closed it again, weighing the words in his mouth. It took a few tries before his throat would cooperate, but eventually he managed: “Where ‘m I?”

“Stark Tower, New York. Which makes me Tony Stark, at your service. Steve’s sleeping off the after-effects of your little adventure.”

Bucky managed a nod before his eyes were fluttering shut again. Tony sat back, resigning himself to another few hours tending the man’s bedside, before Bucky spoke again. 

“Doesn’t hurt.”

“What?”

“Shoulder. Doesn’t hurt.”

“We laced you with quite a lot of pain medication, I’m surprised you can even think straight.”

“‘s never not hurt before. I like it.”

Tony chuckled, absentmindedly smoothing the loose strands of hair from Bucky’s forehead. “Go back to sleep, Barnes. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

* * *

After the initial scare of that first night, during which there was a point where neither Tony nor the ever-optimistic Steve Rogers thought Bucky was going to pull through, the man healed remarkably quickly. Tony guessed it had something to do with the version of the serum Bucky had been laced with, but regardless, the man packed on muscle and weight faster than Tony thought was possible, though his face remained carefully blank, and his eyes were just as haunted as they were when he first came in. Tony had passed through the common room kitchen in the middle of the night on more than one occasion to find Bucky curled up on the sofa with a mug of tea, staring blankly into the darkness. 

At first, Tony and Bucky didn’t interact all that much; Bucky stayed in his room whenever possible, and Tony found himself immensely busy with a new clean energy initiative that was rolling out across Queens. They offered each other hesitant smiles when they passed each other in the kitchen, or in the common room, but otherwise generally didn’t enter each other’s spheres of existence.

That was until one such middle-of-the-night tea drinking scenario, when Tony’s curiosity got the better of him, and stopped next to the sofa instead of walking past.

“You alright, Buckaroo?”

Bucky nodded wordlessly, but Tony could see the look in his eyes despite the calm demeanour, the look of a caged animal that didn’t know how to free itself without tearing itself apart. 

“Mind if I sit?”

“It’s your couch.”

Bucky’s voice was rough, as if he’d been screaming, and Tony had to fight the sudden urge to bundle him up and keep him safe from whatever nightmares were plaguing his sleep. He sat down carefully, leaving enough space so that Bucky wouldn’t bolt, but close enough to offer comfort. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Tony asked, leaning back, making himself comfortable. “Might help.”

Bucky snorted. “I’ve committed atrocities you couldn’t even dream of, Stark. Nothing you could say would help me.”

“Yikes, okay, no need to get so defensive. When was the last time you slept through the night?”

“Nineteen forty-four.”

Tony inhaled, exhaled, rubbed at his temples as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do with this broken man perched on his couch, looking so out of place in this crazy situation he’d landed himself in, looking so haunted by a past he’d had no control over.

“C’mere.” Tony patted his thigh, and Bucky just started at him blankly. “Christ, Barnes, lie down and put your head on my lap. Not that hard, is it?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because it’s easier to sleep when someone’s watching to make sure nothing’s gonna happen, right? Works for me.”

Bucky stared for another second, but, much to Tony’s surprise, placed him mug carefully on the glass coffee table, and stretched himself out across the couch, head on Tony’s lap. Tony tugged the blanket across him, started running his fingers gently through his hair, just like his mother and Pepper and Rhodey had done for him so many times.

“Sleep, Bucky. I’ll wake you up if you need it.”

Bucky slept better that night than he had done in years, and so naturally falling asleep together on the couch became a common occurrence for the two of them. Sometimes sleep didn’t always come, but when it didn’t, they talked, about anything and everything, from what Tony was working on to how Bucky used to find Steve’s chivalrous frustration at Bucky’s ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ ways with the ladies so damn hilarious.

A friendship blossomed between the two of them at night, but during the day they didn’t interact all that much, hence why it was such a surprise when FRIDAY informed him, as he was elbow deep in a gauntlet upgrade, that Bucky required his assistance, as quickly as possible.

“You sure he doesn’t want Cap?”

_‘He’s specifically asking for Captain Rogers not to be alerted to the situation.’_

Tony’s eyes widened in surprise, but he nevertheless dropped the soldering iron he’d been working with, making his way quickly towards the elevator and up to Steve’s floor, where Bucky was staying. There was no risk of Steve interfering  - he was out at his weekly lunch with Nat - but something about Bucky’s request had put Tony’s teeth on edge. 

“Barnes?” Tony called, knocking on the door. “You okay?”

A pained cry came from the other side of the door, and Tony didn’t think twice before he was pushing it open, only to be greeted with the sight of Bucky, slumped against the wall, clutching and clawing at his metal arm as he bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. 

“Christ, Bucky, what’s wrong?”

Tony slid down the wall to sit next to him, smoothing sweaty, tangled hair out of Bucky’s face. He was pale, too pale, and the glassy look in his eyes told Tony he was in so much pain his body didn’t know how to process it.

“Shoulder.” Bucky managed finally, then gasped as he dry heaved. “ _Shoulder_. Get it _off_.”

“Oh my _God_.” Tony gasped, situation dawning on him. “Bucky, I’m so sorry.”

Bucky’s eyes screwed shut and he breathed deeply, breathed through the lancing pain. 

“Unless you want me to call Steve to carry you down there, you’re going to have to work with me here,” Tony said softly, “because there’s no way I can take your weight. Can you stand?”

A great deal of manoeuvring later, in which Tony thought he himself might pass out if he had to see Bucky in that much pain ever again, they were both slumped against the elevator wall, breathing heavily. 

“I’m gonna get it off you, Buck,” Tony assured, “I’m gonna give you a local, and I’m gonna give you so many pain meds you wont know what planet you’re on, and I’m gonna get it off you.”

Bucky didn’t move, but the twitch of his lips was all the consent Tony needed, and when the elevator came to a stop, Bucky went willingly, collapsing onto the same examination bed that had housed his frail body when he first came to the Tower. 

“I’d make a quip about feeling a sharp scratch” Tony smiled weakly as he readied the local anaesthetic. “But I feel it won’t be much appreciated.”

Bucky’s lip twitched again, and Tony got to work.

Three hours later, Bucky was asleep, passed out from the medication pumping through his veins, and Tony was staring down at the arm, detached from Bucky’s body, and feeling anger that he hadn’t felt since the Mandarin attacked Happy. Those _bastards_ had fused this hunk of metal to Bucky’s unwilling body, and not given a shit to the mutilation it had caused. Tony had already seen from where he was bandaging up that Bucky’s shoulder was deformed, at least to some extent, twisted out of place, and that although removal of the arm would go some way to assuaging the pain, he’d need extensive physiotherapy, medication for the rest of his life, and possibly several corrective surgeries. 

But also… they’d taken his soulmate. Tony wasn’t sure if Bucky had realised, because he sure as hell hadn’t, not until he’d cut back Bucky’s sweat-stained shirt in order to operate, and when he did it had hit him like a tonne of bricks. A gorgeous red rose, etched right over Bucky’s heart, right where Tony’s arc reactor sat, a testament to Tony’s passion, a testament to their love of lifetimes. The whole situation seemed rather fitting, that Tony would discover the person who belonged to the amaryllis on his shoulder whilst trying to fix that very pain, but it made so much sense, Bucky’s radiant beauty, his determination to keep going even when it would have been so much easier to give up.

Tony dropped the hunk of metal, the sound reverberating through the room, and let his head fall into his hands, rubbing at his eyes. Bucky hadn’t talked about his soul mark, but Steve had told Tony about it, the rose, explained how Bucky had been so excited to have his spitfire wife… and Tony couldn’t give him that. Tony could only give him an eccentric, alcohol-dependent, chronically ill middle aged man, and he wanted so desperately to give him more. 

* * *

Bucky groaned as he came to, immediately categorizing the weightlessness to his left-hand-side, sighing in relief as his brain caught up enough to realise that the removal had been a success.

“Hey, Buck.”

Bucky mustered up strength enough to turn his head, following the sound of Steve’s voice. He looked concerned, but there was a soft smile on his face, and his fingers were twitching with a nervousness that Bucky hadn’t seen in decades. 

“Hey, Stevie. You doin’ okay?”

“I should be the one askin’ you that, pal. You were in a real bad way, ‘ccording to Tony.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, “but I’m feelin’ a lot better. Fancy meds for the pain, come a long way since the forties.”

Steve hummed, but didn’t say anything else, eyes tracking the bandages wrapped around Bucky’s shoulder, white and pristine. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting?”

“Stevie.”

“ _Bucky_. I ain’t lettin’ you squirrel out of this one.”

“Just seemed a bit stupid, I guess. Weren’t nothing wrong with me, not from the outside.”

“Bucky, your shoulder’s all twisted up, bud. Tony said there’s been some serious damage done, that you must’ve been in agony.”

“Well, it’s sorted now.”

“Not exactly. There’s still a lot of work to be done to ease your pain, HYRDA left you with quite a bit of permanent damage, the bastards.”

“Christ, Stevie, you kiss your ma with that mouth?”

Steve chuckled, resting a gentle hand on the non-damaged shoulder, thumbing at the skin there, just as Bucky had done for him when he was younger. 

“Why’d you go to Tony?” Steve asked quietly, not meeting Bucky’s gaze. “Not that you’re not entitled to go and talk to whoever the hell you like, it’s just that… you know you could’ve come and found me.”

“I didn’t wanna worry you when I knew there was nothin’ you could do about it. Tony’s got… whatever the hell that thing in his chest is. He won’t talk about it, but I know it hurts him, hurts him like the arm was hurtin’ me. Knew he’d understand.”

There was a beat of silence, in which Steve’s brows furrowed in a painfully familiar way that was normally bad news for Bucky.

“Of course.” Steve breathed eventually, eyes wide, and Bucky was suddenly aware that he’d realised something that Bucky had not. “How did I not notice? _Fuck_.”

“What?” Bucky asked sharply, struggling to prop himself up on one elbow. “Steve, _what_?”

“He’s your soulmate. Tony’s your soulmate.”

Bucky was shaking his head before he knew what he was doing, hand absently coming up to cover the mark on his chest. “What the fuck are you on, Rogers? They dose you with some of this stuff too?”

“Your mark, Buck. _Passion_? Love of _lifetimes_? Slap bang over your heart, when Tony just happens to have the most fucked heart I’ve ever come across, emotionally and physically? You just said it yourself - Tony’s in constant pain because of the arc reactor. We’re so fucking dumb.”

Bucky felt his jaw drop, well aware that he probably looked ridiculous with his mouth hanging open, and managing quite easily not to give a fuck. Steve was grinning, grinning so hard he looked like his face was about to split in half. 

“What- what’s Tony’s mark?”

“Shoulder,” Steve nodded with a grin, “an amaryllis flower. Determination and radiant beauty. 

“ _Radiant beauty_? What kind of Shakespeare bullshit is that?”

“Lookin’ pretty radiant to me, Buck.”

“Fuck you Rogers. Where is the bastard?”

“That’s… trickier. He left for Europe about six hours ago. I think he might’ve been quicker on the uptake than we were.”

Bucky let his face drop to the pillow under his head, smothering his frustrated curse. “I’m an armless invalid and that asshole is gonna make me track him across a continent?”

“And I’m a geriatric, according to ‘that asshole’. I’m sure we can find him.”

* * *

It took three weeks for the two of them to finally pin Tony’s location down; the man sure knew how to drop off the grid, and Steve reckoned that even Natasha would have been proud of his vanishing skills. As they sat in their hotel room in the centre of Venice, overlooking the restaurant where Tony was due to meet his friend this evening, Bucky turned to look at Steve, who was sat by the window, flicking through a paperback.

“Was it Peggy?”

Steve looked up from his book, raising an eyebrow. “Was what Peggy?”

“Your soulmate. Was it Peggy?”

“I don’t think so.” Steve shook his head. “She was beautiful, and I loved her, but… I don’t think we were ever supposed to be like that. My flower never really fit her, and hers didn’t fit me. She’s married, now. Someone from the 107th, nice guy from what I can get her to tell me.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah.”

There was a beat of silence, during which Steve went back to his book, but his eyes remained still, staring blankly at the page rather than continuing with his reading. His fingers twitched, and Bucky knew he was waiting to say something. 

“Out with it, Stevie, I ain’t got all day.”

“You got as long as it takes Stark to go to dinner, smartass.”

“Not changing the subject.”

Steve sighed, closed his book for the second time, biting his lip.

“I think I found my soulmate. I know- uh- well, it’s Sam, actually.”

“Sam? As in Sam _Wilson_. The _bird_?”

“That’s the one.”

“Well shit, Stevie,” Bucky chuckled, “you sure pick ‘em.”

“Yeah, I sure do.” Steve smiled, and there was a smushy look in his expression that made Bucky simultaneously want to coo and vomit. “I want you to have that, Buck. With Tony. I want you to be as happy with him as I am with Sam.”

“Gotta get the asshole to listen to me, first,” Bucky grumbled, “but yeah. He’s a swell guy. I think we could make somethin’ work, a mentally unstable assassin and an alcoholic super genius.”

It was this conviction that saw Bucky, three hours later, hiding out in the bathroom of a delightfully authentic Italian family restaurant, not the kind of place that one would expect Tony Stark to frequent, but the kind of place where the suave man fit in all the same. He had met with this friend, an elderly lady, just as his email had said he would, and so Bucky sat, waited for him to consume enough wine to need a bathroom break. 

After an hour and a half, Bucky was starting to give up hope (and really craving a slice of that pizza he could smell whenever the door opened) when he finally got a text from Steve reading ‘ _he’s moving!!’_. Bucky watched carefully from the corner as Tony pushed open the door, concentrated on loosening his tie, not noticing Bucky until he’d slipped in behind Tony and locked the door. Tony looked up, realised what had happened, and let his jaw drop, freezing in shock.

“Hey.” Bucky greeted with an amiable wave, Then, “You’re an idiot.”

“Harsh, but probably fair.” Tony said, once he’d gotten over the shock of finding Bucky in the bathroom of a non-descript Venetian restaurant 4000 miles from New York. “For clarity, what exactly have I done that is idiotic?”

“You ran away. Technically, you ran away whilst I was drugged and unable to talk some sense into you, which was a dick move.”

Tony visibly paled, hesitated before he spoke. “Talk some sense into me about what?”

“About the fact that you realised we’re soulmates.”

“Ah, right. You figured it out, then? Or did FRIDAY rat me out?”

“Figured it out all by myself, doll, with a little help from our resident star-spangled man with a plan.”

“Of course you did,” Tony sighed, “you Brooklyn boys are cleverer than you look.”

“Damn right we are. And you geniuses are obviously dumb as shit. Why’d you take off on me? Woke up and you were just _gone_.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony sighed, “I really am. I just freaked out, I guess. I knew you weren’t gonna want me, and I _really_ didn’t feel like taking that admission head-on, so I figured I’d just go off-grid for a while.”

Tony looked up from where he’d been staring at his shoes, to see Bucky wide-eyed, and with a mildly annoyed expression on his face. He opened his mouth to apologise again, but Bucky beat him to it.

“You think I don’t want you?”

“I don’t need you to spare my feelings, I’d much rather just go and finish my ice cream.”

“Why the ever loving fuck would you think I don’t want you, Tony? You’ve looked after me since the second I stepped foot inside your tower, you helped me sleep for the first time in decades, you performed impromptu surgery on my arm without batting an eyelid- Christ, I know we haven’t been necking on the couch, but I at least thought we were _friends_.”

“We are friends!” Tony rushed out, “it’s just that I’m a middle-aged alcoholic with chronic heart problems, PTSD and crippling anxiety, I’m not exactly a sparkling candidate for a soulmate, and I’ve accepted that.”

“Fucking hell, Tony, I’m a brainwashed prisoner of war turned assassin who has regular incapacitating flashbacks and is missing a fucking arm, I’m not exactly a sparkling candidate either!”

“But it’s different!” Tony insisted, then stopped himself, hesitating, and looked down again. “It’s different because you’re _you_ , and that means that none of that stuff matters. You’re really, really great as you are, Bucky.”

Suddenly Bucky was in front of him, and Tony couldn’t help the squeak he let out as Bucky’s fingers tilted his chin up to meet his gaze.

“And you think I don’t feel the same way about you?”

Then Bucky was kissing him, pressing him up against the row of sinks and kissing him like he needed it to breathe, clutching at Tony’s shoulder with his hand, groaning into his mouth as Tony willingly parted his lips. It felt so _right_ , and distantly Tony remembered what Anna had said to him all those years ago, Jarvis sitting across from her, smiling like a love-sick dope.

_‘The first time you kiss your soulmate… it will feel like nothing you have ever felt before. You will see the world in a new way, as if everything has been reinvented just to fit the two of you together. Everything will change, and you will see the world in true colour for the first time.’_

They were both panting when they eventually broke the kiss, though they stayed pressed up against each other, as though they were worried the other might disappear. Tony didn’t realise he was crying until Bucky made a concerned noise and brushed a tear from his face.

“Anna was right,” Tony said eventually, “about the colour. She was _so right_.”

* * *

“Come sleep in the penthouse tonight.” Tony said, when they arrived back in the Tower. Bucky raised an eyebrow and Steve smothered a laugh as Tony sighed. “Not to have sex, you dumbass, I just mean we fall asleep together on the couch pretty much every night, and I _am_ a middle aged man. It’s not good for my back.”

“You know,” Bucky grinned, slinging his arms around Tony’s neck, “I think pick-up lines were a lot better in the forties.”

“They were!” Steve assured from the doorway, and laughed as Tony flipped him off, leaning his head on Bucky’s chest with an indignant snort. “Night you two, don’t stay up too late.”

“Yes, _dad_.” Tony mumbled, relishing in the deep chuckle that reverberated through Bucky’s chest. “God, that man is a pain in my ass.”

“He’s the pain in your ass that got me to realise why you’d run off on me, then essentially forced us into a car for four days to figure everything out.”

“It’s called a roadtrip,” Tony grumbled, “but I guess you’re right.”

“I must make it clear that I’m not disputing the fact that Steve Rogers is a pain in the ass, just offering a balanced argument. He was being a pain in the ass thirty years before you were born.”

“Got it.” Tony grinned into Bucky’s t-shirt. “Now c’mon, I’m exhausted, bed is calling.”

There was some awkward fumbling, even with Tony’s bathroom being the size it was, accidental touches on bare skin that had them both tensing before they smiled at each other nervously in the mirror. Brushing their teeth next to each other felt oddly domestic, and Tony realised that he was grinning at his own reflection.

“What?” Bucky mumbled around his toothbrush. “Why y’ grn’ng like a psy’path?”

“I’m grinning like a totally normal person, thank you very much.” Tony said indignantly after he’d spat and rinsed his mouth out. “I’m just happy you’re here.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and mumbled something else that sounded suspiciously like  _‘sappy shit’_ , but he was smiling as well, eyes bright and more alive than he’d looked in all the short time Tony had known him.

“Dibs on little spoon!” Tony called, and when Bucky just grunted in reply, he went about burrowing himself under the covers, stretching out against the softness of his sheets with a satisfied sigh after days spent cooped up in a car and an aeroplane. “Get under here, I’m freezing.”

“God, impatient much?” Bucky chuckled, but soon enough Tony felt Bucky’s comforting weight against his back, arms coming to wrap around him.

“We should’ve been doing this before,” Tony huffed, “that couch in the common area was fucking with my back.”

“You’re such an old man.” Bucky chuckled, nuzzling the back of Tony’s neck. “But yeah, this is nice. I like being with you… like this.”

“Me too, Buckaroo.”

They were silent for a second, but Tony was tense, and Bucky wondered if he would have picked up on it if they weren’t bonded. Nevertheless, it was mildly distressing, so he shifted to stroke Tony’s hair, eliciting a content purr from the smaller man.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked gently. “Something’s stressing you.”

“I want to ask about your arm,” Tony admitted, “but I also don’t want to cross any boundaries.”

“As if I didn’t know that was coming,” Bucky scoffed, “ask away, doll.”

“I don’t even know really what I want to ask. Did they- god, what did they even _do_ to you, Buck?”

“I crippled my arm when I fell from that goddamn train, it was a total mess. Probably didn’t have a bone in tact. HYDRA couldn’t see a way it was going to heal well enough for me to fight with it, so they sawed the damn thing off.” Bucky paused, breathed deeply as he let the memories wash over him. “It’s sketchy, everything I did as the solider, but the pain, I remember that. Ain’t never wanted to die more than when they strapped me to that table and cut my fucking arm off.”

Tony made a pained noise, wriggled round until he could bury his head against Bucky’s chest. Bucky wrapped his arms tighter around Tony, though who it was comforting more he couldn’t quite tell.

“I never want you to be in pain like that again.” Tony murmured against his chest. “I’ll fix it for you, Bucky. I’ll fix your shoulder, I’ll fix you a new arm. I don’t want to see you in pain. When you called me… seeing you like that broke my heart, you know.” 

“My beautiful genius,” Bucky smiled, “all you want to do is make things better.”

Tony made a mildly embarrassed noise, but didn’t push the matter. They lay there in silence, until Bucky found himself brimming with his own questions, questions about the placement of his own mark. 

“My turn to ask?” he said hesitantly and Tony huffed out a laugh. 

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“What exactly is that thing? And why- why does it hurt you? Stevie said it saved your life, it’s _saving_ your life, but you hold your chest all the time, you take the same pain medication you gave me.”

“It’s an electromagnet. Had a brief soiree in an Afghan cave a few years ago, and this thing is currently stopping a cluster of shrapnel from worming it’s way into my heart and killing me.” Tony explained, steadying himself by tracing aimless patterns on Bucky’s arm, numbers and letters until his mind was calm. “Open heart surgery in a cave in the middle of the desert is not the most fun thing, and fuck, I’ve never felt pain like it. Like someone pried open my ribs with a crowbar. When I got back, I figured out they kind of did. Moved around some lung to fit this thing in, broke a few bones that didn’t heal right, and now here we are. Chronic chest pains, the occasional episode of oxygen-related issues.”

“God.” Bucky chuckled hoarsely, and Tony realised belatedly that Bucky was crying, tears streaming down his cheeks. “We’ve really been through it, haven’t we?”

“Yeah.” Tony nodded and smiled weakly, brushing the wetness from Bucky’s cheeks. “Yeah, we really have.”

“But now we have each other.”

“We don’t have to do it alone any more.” 

“Damn right.”

And then they were kissing, desperately, the taste of each other’s tears salty in their mouths as they clung to each other, like two drowning men.

“I’m so glad I found you,” Bucky choked out, “I waited so fucking long and you’re perfect.”

“I could say the same about you, hot stuff.” Tony laughed wetly, wiping at his eyes. “I think I’m in love with you.”

“Well I _know_ I’m in love with you.”

“Good.”

They kissed again, more gently, less tinged with desperation, as if affirming that they were both _here_ , both present, both grounded. Never going to leave.

* * *

“Bucky,” Tony breathed, “god, you’re so beautiful like this.”

Bucky groaned, tipped his head back willingly as Tony licked up the column of his throat, tracing Bucky’s stubbled jawline with his tongue.

“I don’t know what I want,” Bucky admitted, “I’ve- I’ve never done this before. Not properly, not with a man or a woman.”

“Kept up that Bucky Barnes façade whilst saving yourself for your soulmate?”

“Something like that.”

“Well in _that_ case, I’d better make this good for you, hmm? After all, you have been waiting seventy-odd years.”

Bucky smiled, eyes still closed, savouring the feeling of Tony nuzzling the sensitive skin of his neck, mapping over his collarbones and down his chest, worrying the scar tissue that covered his shoulder. 

“ _Tony_.”

“You got a preference for topping or bottoming, honey? I generally prefer to be on the receiving end, but it’s your call.”

“Anything you want, Tony, _god_ , anything.”

“I wanna ride you.” Tony breathed against Bucky’s sweat-damp skin, nosing over the tent in the front of his sweatpants, darkening the fabric with kitten licks. “What’s your refractory period like? Because I also _really_ wanna have this thing down my throat.”

“‘m normally good for two in a row,” Bucky nodded, “and I’d really like that. Both of those things.”

“I’ll make it good for you, honey.” Tony assured, looking up at Bucky through his dark lashes, eyes wide open with honesty. “I promise I’ll make it good for you.”

“I know you will.”

Tony smiled, got back to nosing over the damp fabric of Bucky’s pants as the other man fought to keep himself under control. His own hand had never felt anything like this, and it was so _intense_ , like nothing he’d ever imagined it’d be. And he hadn’t even gotten his pants off yet. 

“You sure?” Tony asked, looking up at Bucky again. “We can stop here if you want, no questions asked. Whatever you want.”

“Please don’t stop,” Bucky whimpered, “god, please don’t stop.”

“Okay babe, I hear you, loud and clear. Sweats off, yeah?” Bucky nodded and lifted his hips as Tony pulled them off, letting his cock spring up against his stomach with an obscene noise that had Tony’s eyes widening. “Fuck, you’re _hung_.”

Bucky managed a grin. “Glad you’re enjoying the view. You gonna do more than stare at it?”

“Sir yes, sir.” Tony gave a mock salute and then dove down to lick over the head, lapping up the precome that had dripped down. Tony gripped the base enough to get a good angle before he was sliding those sinfully swollen lips down Bucky’s length, fighting the urge to gag as it touched the back of his throat and then pushing past it, working his tongue along the underside. 

Bucky’s head slammed back against the cushions from where it had been propped up to watch, and he let out a filthy moan that Tony felt right down to the tips of his toes. If his mouth weren’t full of cock, he would’ve grinned to himself with satisfaction;  _‘Tony Stark sucks the best dick’_ wasn’t scrawled across the second floor bathroom wall of his MIT frat house for nothing. A second to appreciate the weight of it in his throat, the exhilaration that came with not being able to draw breath properly, and Tony slid his lips back up, setting a steady, even pace that had Bucky’s thighs trembling. 

“Pull my hair.” Tony instructed as he realised that Bucky’s free had was fisting restlessly in the tangled sheets. “Don’t worry, I like it.”

“You’re amazing.” Bucky rasped, proceeding to tangle his fingers in Tony’s hair as had been required, and to let out another pornographic moan as Tony dove back down onto his cock. 

The hot, wet heat of his mouth coupled with the jerky motions of a slick hand jacking him off at the base had Bucky nearing the edge way too soon, and he managed to regain coherence long enough to indicate as much to Tony, tugging on his hair in an attempt to get him to pull off. Tony completely ignored him, instead doubling his efforts, hollowing his cheeks to create an impossibly tight sensation that had Bucky crying out, flicking his tongue against the bundle of nerves right below the head. 

“Gonna come.” Bucky panted, the fist in Tony’s hair tightening as the man moaned happily. “Fuck, Tony, _fuck_.”

Bucky groaned as he came, hips fucking shallowly into Tony’s pliant mouth as the man kept suckling gently, waiting until Bucky’s gently tugged him off, too sensitive to continue. Tony breathed deeply for a couple of seconds, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, before he crawled up until he was straddling Bucky, a soft smile on his face. 

“You’re perfect.” Tony said, matter-of-factly, tracing gentle fingers across Bucky’s flushed cheek. “You’re so, so perfect, Bucky.”

“Says the guy who literally just sucked my dick.”

Tony chuckled, then leaned down to kiss Bucky, soft and sweet, lips gently moving together until Bucky was pliant and relaxed, a puddle under Tony’s hands. 

“There you go, honey.” Tony crooned, brushing strands of tangled hair out of Bucky’s face. “Just let me look after you, yeah? Let me take care of you like you need.”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, “yeah, Tony, please.”

“Just gonna get some stuff.” Tony murmured against Bucky’s lips, before pulling away and crawling across the bed to the nightstand, grabbing a bottle of lube and a condom. 

Bucky silently bemoaned the fact that Tony was still wearing sweats, and then realised that he was allowed to ask for things. “Loose the pants?”

“Of course, my dear.” Tony grinned playfully, and lost no time shimmying out of his sweats in a way that was slightly more theatrical than strictly necessary, but that Bucky enjoyed all the same. “I’m gonna open myself up for you, get you nice and slick, and then I’m gonna ride you until you come again and all you can do is scream my name. That sound good to you?”

“That sounds amazing, god, _you’re_ amazing.”

“And you’re better.” Tony smiled, leaning down to press another soft kiss to Bucky’s lips, though not missing the opportunity to bite gently on Bucky’s swollen lower lip as he pulled away. “Now you sit tight, hold on to my hip if you want to.”

It didn’t take long before Tony had let himself fall forwards, head tucked into the crook of Bucky’s neck, panting hotly against the flushed skin as he worked three fingers into himself, alternating between sucking bruises into Bucky’s skin just to hear his delicious keening noises and biting his own lip to keep from crying out every time he rubbed against his prostate. Eventually he eased his fingers out and sat up, shushing Bucky’s pained whimper at the loss of contact. 

“You ready, big boy?” Tony asked, rubbing soothing circles into Bucky’s hipbone. “You can still back out of this whenever you want, no questions asked.”

“I’m ready, I’m so, so ready for you, you’re so beautiful and I love you _so much_ -”

“My beautiful soulmate,” Tony cooed, “my beautiful, strong, _strong_ soulmate. I waited so long for you, and here you are, and I couldn’t have asked for anything more.”

“I want to be inside you, Tony,” Bucky whimpered, “please, I want to feel you around me.”

“On it, honey, don’t worry.” Tony assured, giving Bucky’s hardened dick a few tight pumps of his wrist before he rolled the condom on. Bucky hissed, and Tony chuckled. “Any time you feel uncomfortable, or you wanna change something, or you’re not liking something, you tell me, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Bucky agreed, and Tony didn’t waste any more time, lining Bucky’s cock up and sinking down, one smooth motion that had them crying out in unison. 

“God you fill me up so well,” Tony groaned, “you’re prefect, like you were made for me.”

“I was,” Bucky panted, “we _were_ made for each other.”

“Yeah, we were.”

There was nothing more beautiful, Bucky quickly decided, than Tony in this moment, all lean but powerful muscle, sweat-sheened tan skin, arching his back and balancing with one hand on Bucky’s chest, riding Bucky’s dick like it was the last thing he’s ever do. His cock was hard, curing towards his belly, flushed almost red and dripping precome. 

“Can I touch you?” Bucky asked, sliding his hand up Tony’s thigh.

“Oh _please_ do,” Tony groaned, “I’m close.”

“Me too.” Bucky assured, then wrapped his calloused finger’s around Tony’s length, pumping his hand as best he could with the awkward angle. Balancing on his bad shoulder with no arm to prop him up wasn’t easy, but he managed, thumbing over the head and working the precome down the shaft to slick the way. 

“You’re perfect,” Tony bit out, “so, so perfect, making me feel so good, baby.”

Bucky didn’t have the capacity to form words, instead speeding up the movement of his hand to tell Tony he was close.

“I’ve got you, honey.” Tony soothed, quickening his pace, even as his thighs protested. “Come on, baby, come for me.”

There was nothing Bucky could do but obey, crying out and vision darkening for a second as he thrust up, chasing his orgasm, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open. The sight of Bucky, his _soulmate_ , coming apart underneath him, looking so vulnerable and beautiful, had Tony coming not long after, thrusting into the vice that Bucky still had wrapped around his cock as he shot onto Bucky’s bare chest. 

Tony collapsed next to him, breathing heavily, a satisfied smile on his face as he nuzzled into Bucky’s side.

“You okay? That wasn’t too much?”

“That was perfect,” Bucky replied honestly, “that was amazing.”

“Well, plenty more where that came from, hot stuff. Even if I can’t get it up again quite as quickly as you can.”

“I love you regardless, old man.”

“Love you too, Buck. Now let me go so I can find a washcloth and clean us up, I’m sticky and I don’t like it.”

* * *

**Epilogue**

“Stevie, pal, you gotta pull yourself together.” Bucky sighed, straightening his tie in the mirror, frowning as he tugged it straight. “You’ve walked headfirst into HYDRA bases with no weapons and no backup and didn’t blink. You can walk up a goddamn aisle and get married to the man you love without fainting like a dame. It’s _Sam Wilson_ , Stevie. I’ve met new-born puppies more intimidating.”

"Don’t know how you did it,” Steve admitted, combing through his hair in the mirror opposite. “Before you married Tony, you were calmer than I’ve _ever_ seen you. What’s the secret?”

“Don’t think I was entirely lucid,” Bucky chuckled, “the twins were, what, eighteen months? Couldn’t have been on more than a couple hours ‘a sleep. Kids. _That’s_ the secret.”

A knock on the door interrupted them, along with some giggling, and Tony’s voice proclaiming: “Special delivery! One beautiful flower girl and a rather dashing ring bearer!”

Bucky opened the door, holding his arms out for a hug, but Maria and Edward dashed straight past him with calls of _'uncle Steve, uncle Steve!_. Bucky grumbled and subtly flipped a cackling Tony the bird, taking the wriggling baby girl out of his arms and pressing a kiss to his husband’s cheek.

“What am I, chopped liver?”

“ _Handsome_ chopped liver.” Tony grinned, tugging Bucky forward to kiss him properly, until Aster complained by tugging on his meticulously gelled hair. “Yeah, yeah, I know, no mauling daddy when he’s all dressed up, got it.”

“We already saw uncle Sam,” Maria was telling Steve when Tony let go of Bucky. “He looks very pretty, his neck thingie is the same colour as my flowers, see?”

“Not as pretty as you, little flower girl.” Steve grinned, hauling the squealing girl up to perch on his hip, flicking her nose. “Prettiest dame I ever did see.”

“Me too!” Edward demanded indignantly, holding his arms up. “I want to be pretty too!”

“You too, buddy.” Steve assured, perching Edward on his other hip. “Pretty as pie, the both of ya. Could just eat ya both up.”

The two of them shrieked with delighted laughter as Steve pretended to bite at their chubby fingers, and Tony grinned from where he was leaning on Bucky’s chest, letting Aster play with Bucky’s tags that hung around his neck.

“What?” Steve demanded, glaring at them indignantly. “ _What_?”

“Only a matter of time, Rogers,” Bucky grinned, “I give it six months, tops.”

Aster stayed mercifully quiet throughout the ceremony, even managing to clap, albeit confusedly, when Steve and Sam kissed. Maria threw her flowers with a certain flair that reminded Bucky painfully of Tony in front of a crowd, and Edward brightened at a thumbs up from Sam in a way that reminded Tony painfully of Bucky whenever someone told him he was doing a good job. Maria even managed not to spill any of the lavish dinner down her white, hand-embroidered Versace dress, but Tony’s Italian silk shirt was a lost cause after Aster knocked Bucky’s glass of wine all over it.

“Papa?” Maria asked, after everyone had finished toasting the newlyweds. “Can I try some cham- champagne?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Okay.” Maria nodded, then turned to Bucky, tugging his sleeve. “Daddy? Can I try some champagne?”

“You are incredibly cheeky, young lady.” Bucky scolded, trying his level best to keep a straight face, and failing miserably. “You heard your papa, you’re _way_ too young. Go find your uncle Sam, I’m sure he’ll get you some more cake.”

As soon as she’d dashed off, an indignant Edward in tow clamouring that he too deserved cake, Bucky and Tony collapsed, heaving with laughter. 

“She’s ridiculous.” Tony chuckled, wiping at his eyes. “God, _this_ is ridiculous.”

“It’s perfect,” Bucky grinned, “everything I ever wanted. Kids, family, fiery dame to come home to, the whole hog.”

“Save the ‘dame’ stuff for the bedroom, hot stuff.” Tony laughed, then let his head drop to Bucky’s shoulder, still smiling. “Love you, babe.”

“Love you too, my beautiful genius.”


End file.
